


The Bad Old Days

by Vigs



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, M/M, Time Travel, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vigs/pseuds/Vigs
Summary: When a temporal anomaly throws Bashir back in time to the days of Terok Nor, he is interrogated by Elim Garak, ruthless operative of the Obsidian Order. Can he get back to his own time, and can he sort out his complex feelings for his torturer and his friend?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 137
Kudos: 192





	1. Time Bullshit

**Author's Note:**

> A unique (as far as I can tell) take on Bashir and Garak getting together. The violence warning is for torture, physical and psychological, so please tread carefully if that's a potential trigger for you.

Under the circumstances, Julian didn't really have time to reminisce, but he couldn't help but remember O'Brien's tipsy rant some months past, after the incident with the cloaked Romulan vessel and the uncontrollable bouts of time travel.

"There's so much _bullshit_ in space," O'Brien had complained. He'd declared the evening a non-synthehol one; real liquor only. "I mean, of course there's the technology gone wrong bullshit: you've got your holodeck bullshit, your transporter bullshit, your warp engine bullshit. But at least you can do things to prevent that sort of bullshit. Can't do much about the 'life, but not as we know it' alien bullshit, or the space bullshit - all those phenomenons that can happen - and there's not a damned thing you can do to prevent time bullshit. I'm not even supposed to be in this time! The me I'm supposed to be _died._ What the hell do I do with that?" He took a long drink.

"Why go to space then, if there's so much bullshit?" Julian had asked.

"Well, it's not all bullshit," O'Brien allowed. "And if I can make it less likely that other people will have to go through the tech gone wrong bullshit, that's well worth doing. The rest of it I can mostly put up with. But I hate, I absolutely _hate_ , time bullshit."

This time, Julian couldn't help but think, it was a combination of space bullshit and transporter bullshit that had _caused_ the time bullshit. There had been a chroniton storm, a request for an emergency transport, and then suddenly the lights were dim and the promenade was crowded with haggard, shocked Bajorans - not that he'd really taken in more than the knowledge that he definitely wasn't in sickbay before he was finally forced to give up on his patient, a Bajoran himself. An eddy in the chroniton storm had caused parts of him to experience a faster flow of time than others, and his circulatory and nervous systems just couldn't keep up.

And then, just as Julian gave up on doing chest compressions, hands had roughly grabbed his shoulders and dragged him to his feet. Cardassian hands, belonging to two rather imposing Cardassian men. It didn't take him long to realize that the transporter had sent him not through space, but through time; he was on Terok Nor during the occupation. Time bullshit.

The Cardassians brought him to Gul Dukat, looking younger than he had the last time Julian had seen him, although it was hard for him to exactly gauge the age of a Cardassian. What hadn't changed was his serpentine smile.

"I would have thought that even the Federation would know better than to put their spies in uniform," he said, looking Julian up and down.

"I'm not a spy!" Julian protested hastily. "There's been an accident. I didn't even mean to be here."

"How unfortunate for you," Dukat said. Looking at the Cardassians, he snapped, "Process him." That reminded Julian uncomfortably of another rant of O'Brien's, the one about the "Cardie injustice system."

"The Order will have to be informed," someone quietly said to Dukat as Julian was dragged away. The dread in the pit of his stomach increased.

Soon, though, he barely had the energy for dread. After an extraordinarily thorough search for weapons, the Cardassians took a blood sample, a _tooth_ sample, a saliva sample, and other samples Julian didn't really want to think about. Finally they threw him into a cell in what would someday be Odo's security center, the one cell not already crowded with Bajorans, and there they left him.

It was hot, hot enough that his hair and uniform were plastered to him by a layer of sweat, despite the supposed all-weather hardiness of Starfleet uniforms. He had no real way of keeping track of time. The other prisoners were fed at irregular intervals; he wasn't fed at all, only given too little water. Prisoners left and prisoners were brought in, but none were put in his cell, and although they stared at him and whispered to each other, none seemed interested in talking to him. The constant rotation meant that someone was awake and talking at every hour, making it difficult for Julian to sleep.

It was miserable. At first he had little trouble keeping his mind busy with theories about how he'd gotten there and potential plans for escape, but after a while the oppressive heat, the hunger, the thirst, and the lack of interaction wore on him to the point that his brain felt like it had melted into sludge. His gums ached where they'd pulled the tooth, a persistent dull throbbing that he could imagine was the heartbeat of Terok Nor itself, a great beast that had devoured him whole.

They were going to torture him, he knew. Actually, scratch that; they _were_ torturing him. Starvation, dehydration, sleep deprivation, and isolation were all very effective methods of torture. He did his best to steel himself against whatever might come next, but that unknown started to bother him even more than his missing tooth. Would they beat him? Hang him up by his wrists? Pull off his fingernails? Violate him sexually? He had no way of knowing, and his enhanced imagination came up with ever more grisly scenarios.

Then one - day? Night? He had no way of knowing - he woke abruptly from the shallow, restless sleep that was all he could manage here, his ears ringing from the sudden silence from the other cells. He sat up and blinked in the dim light before he saw who was now standing before his cell wearing the emblem of the Obsidian Order, and realized abruptly that his imagination hadn't been nearly cruel enough. It wasn't enough that they would torture him; he was going to be tortured by his best friend.

"Garak," he croaked, then immediately cursed himself for showing recognition. Ah well; he probably couldn't have kept it off his face anyway, not well enough to fool Garak, whose sharp eyes were taking in his sweat-stained appearance carefully.

"You poor thing," Garak said in a sympathetic voice. Julian would have laughed if he'd had the energy; he knew that tone well. It was the one Garak used when he was humoring him. It was a lie. "I can't believe Gul Dukat had you in such conditions. Let's get you out of there and find you something to eat and drink, shall we?"

Good cop, bad cop, Julian thought. Garak was going to try to get information out of him with false sympathy, and probably slightly drugged food and drink. At least, that was how he was going to start.

But he might not need anything more than that, Julian realized miserably. Despite knowing what was going on, despite recognizing all of it as a lie, a part of him wanted to throw himself at Garak's feet, or perhaps into his arms, and tell him exactly what had happened, Temporal Prime Directive be damned. Something deep in him looked at Garak and, overruling all his higher thinking, said _friend_. Well, maybe not friend exactly - maybe it said a bit more on that, unrequited though Julian knew the feeling was even in his own time - but certainly it recognized Garak as an ally, as someone who would help. Garak's guards entered the cell and pulled Julian roughly to his feet.

"Gently, gently," Garak scolded them. Closer up, Julian could see the missing years on his friend; the lines in his face were shallower, his eyes even livelier. "The poor boy has been through enough. Come; I've arranged for more suitable quarters for you. We can get you fed and cleaned up, and then... we can talk."

And even knowing what was going on, even seeing that particular light in Garak's eyes that was joy in a good lie well told, Julian would have cried in gratitude if he hadn't been so dehydrated.


	2. The Carrot…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some friendly conversations.

Julian recognized the room he was moved to as standard single-person quarters, but after his time in the cell, it seemed the epitome of luxury. Garak had even turned the heat down in this room, finally giving him a break from that stifling air. He concentrated on eating his food, some sort of bland soup, slowly and carefully, occasionally taking carefully moderated sips of water. He wouldn't want to throw it all up again.

"That is a Starfleet uniform, isn't it?" Garak asked idly while Julian ate. "It doesn't look quite like the ones I've seen before."

"It is," Julian said. No harm in admitting that, not when he'd had his clearly-Starfleet combadge on when he got here.

"And the blue at the neck means that you're a scientist?" Garak asked. Really, Julian shouldn't answer any of his questions. His training had told him that. Don't start answering an interrogator's questions, even harmless-seeming ones, or you might end up giving away more than you meant to. But again, given how he'd arrived, Garak must already know the answer, and... well, the longer Julian could put off the time when Garak dropped the good cop act, the better.

"Medical, in my case," he said.

"Ah, yes," Garak said. "You were trying to treat a Bajoran when you arrived here. What was wrong with him exactly? Our own medical team is quite puzzled as to cause of death."

"I can't tell you that," Julian said, bracing himself for the worst.

"We were also quite puzzled," Garak continued as if he had never asked a question, "Because he's been located alive and well in one of our re-education camps. A perfect DNA match. Why do you suppose that was? The gentleman in the camps was quite insistent that he doesn't have a twin."

"I can't tell you that either," Julian said, finishing the soup. The drowsiness he was feeling - was it the product of the sleep deprivation, or of drugs? Did it matter?

"Well, perhaps Starfleet will be kind enough to let us know, once we've returned you home," Garak said. "Tell me, who should we contact for you? Who is your commanding officer?"

"You can't contact Starfleet," Julian said, alarmed. He had to keep this temporal corruption from spreading any further.

"Really?" Garak asked mildly. "A civilian in the Federation, then? Surely someone would like to know that you're safe."

"No," Julian said shortly. He must be, what, in his teens right now, back on Earth? Something like that.

"An interesting attitude. Are you perhaps a defector?" Garak asked. "I'm certain Gul Dukat would have at least mentioned it if you'd told him anything of the sort."

"I'm not a defector," Julian said, a bit of heat in his voice. Leave the Federation for  _ Cardassia? _ Never.

"I assume you're not in exile, since the Federation doesn't practice that punishment," Garak said. "A runaway, perhaps? A criminal - what was that odd human phrase - on the lam?"

"I can't tell you," Julian said.

"You can't seem to tell me much, can you?" Garak asked. "Would you like to hear my guess? A uniform, but not a current uniform - a sudden, inexplicable appearance - no one in the Federation you'd like to send word to - and the interesting fact that you recognized me... My guess is that you're from the future. And of course, if you are, you can't confirm it because of Starfleet's 'Temporal Prime Directive.' But Cardassia recognizes no such limitation, my dear doctor. We would be very,  _ very _ grateful for any and all information from the future." He held up a hand as if to stop Julian from speaking. "I'm not asking now. I know you've sworn an oath not to interfere with the past. But I hope that you'll think on what I've said. There's a shower through that door, and a bed through that one. Please, make yourself at home." Garak rose.

"That's it?" Julian blurted out, shocked. He'd expected a labyrinth of words, mind games, trick questions.

"Consider it a forwarded payment of a bit of Cardassia's gratitude," Garak said, smiling at him as he rose. It was a very convincing smile, one that reached his eyes, but they themselves proclaimed everything he said a trick. "Sleep on it, my dear doctor. Good night."

"Good night," Julian said automatically. Garak walked out the door, and loneliness clamped down around Julian again like a full-body vise.

The next day, Julian was still weak from malnourishment, but he could feel his strength returning. He hesitated before putting his stinking uniform back on - the closet was full of light Cardassian-style clothing - but pulled it on anyway. He was a Starfleet officer, and he would face his interrogator in uniform as long as that option was available.

Garak politely knocked on the door soon after Julian was dressed, confirming his assumption that they were watching him somehow, and waited for Julian's invitation before he came in.

"Good morning," he said. "I trust you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you," Julian said, politeness overriding his training.

"I have some unfortunate news," Garak said, sitting at the table again and gesturing for Julian to join him. "Gul Dukat, who is in charge of this station, is not a patient man. Despite my requests, he's told me that unless you tell me  _ something  _ of interest by the end of today, he won't allow us to continue to make use of this room. You'll have to go back to the cell."

Julian swallowed down panic. He'd been expecting this, he reminded himself. Good cop, bad cop, and all that.

"It doesn't have to be much," Garak continued after waiting expectantly for a moment. "Simply confirming what I already know about how you arrived here would suffice."

Julian swallowed. Could he? Would he, for another day of comfort? If someone like Kira or Worf or Miles had been here in this place, he knew they'd refuse to talk. But Garak... what would Garak do? He would lie.

"My name is James Brighton, and I'm a doctor," he said hesitantly, after a long moment of silence. "Is... is that enough?"

"That's plenty for today," Garak said with an avuncular smile. "Oh - I almost forgot." He went over to the replicator and said something to it in Kardasi, then placed a bowl of something like cream of wheat and a glass of water in front of Julian.

"Thank you," Julian said, and again began to eat carefully. Refuse to speak and be punished; talk, even if it was a lie, and be rewarded. An ideal Starfleet officer would keep their mouth shut and take whatever came. Maybe Julian wasn't an ideal Starfleet officer, but at least he got to eat. If he could get his strength back up before Garak inevitably insisted on information he couldn't give, it would make enduring the cell a lot easier.

"Do you know much about Terok Nor?" Garak asked.

"It's a space station, right?" Julian replied. Harmless enough. He could have figured that out just by looking out the window.

"That's right!" Garak said with another smile. He put a PADD he'd been carrying on the table. "Here - information about Terok Nor and the planet it orbits. I'm sure you could use something to do." Answer a question, get a reward.

"Thank you," Julian said.

"You're quite welcome, my dear doctor," Garak replied. Idly, he asked, "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me how you knew my name?"

"I can't," Julian said.

"I suspected as much," Garak said with a careless shrug. "A shame, but of course I understand." He stood up. "I have other duties to attend to, but I'll come back when it's time for dinner. Perhaps we can talk more then."

Julian felt a claw of panic rise through him, and almost begged Garak not to leave; more isolation was too much. Some of it must have shown on his face, because Garak's expression became just a hair more self-satisfied. Not trusting his voice, Julian nodded, and Garak left him alone with the rest of his breakfast and a PADD full of Cardassian propaganda - not the most interesting read, but Julian read it three times anyway for lack of anything better to do. The first duty of a prisoner is to escape, but how could he even try to escape from the wrong time?


	3. ...and the Stick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: More direct torture

Julian managed to get three more days of comfort with small truths. Yes, he was from the future. The Bajoran he'd been treating had died as a result of the same effect that pulled Julian back in time. No, he didn't have any novel medical information that would be of any use to Cardassians. That last one may have been a bit of a lie, but telling them anything like that would definitely be a violation of the Temporal Prime Directive. Garak's particularly bland smile when Julian lied to him said that he saw right through him, but he didn't throw him back in the cell for that.

"How far in the future did you say you were from?" Garak asked seemingly idly on the fourth day.

"Far enough," Julian said.

"And you were on Terok Nor when you traveled back in time, I assume?"

"That's a reasonable assumption," Julian cautiously replied, trying to keep his voice as steady and calm as Garak's.

"Then you must know how things are going on Bajor in your time," Garak said. "Has the resistance been pacified?"

"I believe Bajor is more peaceful in my time than in yours," Julian said carefully. Garak sighed.

"I'm afraid that's not enough," he said. "If you want to stay in this chilly room, I'm going to need something concrete today. Anything about the future of Cardassia, Terok Nor, Bajor... I won't be too picky. But Gul Dukat wants something solid."

"Anything I told you could change the timeline," Julian said. "I can't break the Temporal Prime Directive."

"A single name," Garak said. "It can even be one we already know. Just name a Bajoran rebel."

Julian hesitated. They must already know Shakaar's name, right? Since the resistance cell was named after him? But he was far enough in the past that that might be true yet, and if Shakaar was caught and imprisoned or executed now, that would certainly change the timelines.

"I'm afraid I don't know any names," he said.

"Then, my dear doctor, I have no choice but to allow you to be returned to your cell," Garak said. "My hands are tied." Lying, he was lying. Well, of course he was. Garak lied about almost everything, even in Julian's proper time, where the stakes weren't nearly as high. But Julian would be willing to bet that Garak had complete control of where he was put, and that the specter of Gul Dukat was only being used as a tactic to make him feel that Garak was his friend. If Garak only knew.

The cell was just as bad the second time: no food, not enough water, oppressive heat. It helped a bit that Garak came by every day to ask if Julian was ready to talk. He always had suggestions.

"A Starfleet authorization code that isn't in use yet," he'd say, or "Surely it couldn't hurt just to give us an idea of what the situation on Bajor is in your time." Julian always refused, but he was still strangely comforted just by seeing his friend's face, even if Garak wasn't really his friend yet.

Still, it was a long wait, and the end of it was as unpleasant as the wait itself. Two soldiers roughly pulled him from his cell, took him somewhere - Julian thought it was a meeting room on DS9, but it was clearly something entirely different on Terok Nor - stripped him, put some sort of collar on him, and tied his hands behind his back. He was pushed to the hot metal floor and left lying there for some time before Garak arrived.

"Oh dear," Garak said as Julian struggled to his feet. "You don't look at all well, doctor. I am sorry it had to come to this." Would someone who didn't know Garak well have recognized the avid anticipation in his voice?

"It didn't have to," Julian argued.

"No, it didn't," Garak acknowledged with a nod of his head. "You could have given me more information earlier, and continued to stay in your comfortable room. But you are a mystery, my dear doctor, and I have received orders that you must be unraveled. To that end, I will be causing you pain." He picked up a controller and pressed a button, which caused the collar around Julian's neck to send a shocking wave of pain through him, sending him back to his knees, his teeth clenched too hard for his scream to escape.

"Please don't, Garak," Julian begged when the pain was gone. He was weak and dizzy from hunger and dehydration and pain, and hardly knew what he was saying. "Let someone else torture me. You're my friend. I can't bear it from you."

"Well, that's very interesting," Garak said. He sat down in a chair Julian hadn't noticed before, the only one in the room. "How would I come to be friends with a Starfleet officer? Or, perhaps an easier question - _where_ would I become friends with a Starfleet officer? Here on Terok Nor?"

Could he answer that? Would it change anything? Would it change his friendship with Garak? Did that really matter, compared to everything else?

"I will have to shock you again if you won't answer the question," Garak said, falsely sad.

"Yes," Julian said. "On this space station. And don't pretend that you're sad about having to hurt me. Don't bother pretending you're already my friend. You're enjoying this, aren't you? I don't know if you're actually a sadist or not, but you're in your element, and you do love being good at your job."

Garak hesitated, looking genuinely taken aback for a moment.

"If you want me to be honest with you, you must be honest with me," he eventually said. "How did we become friends?"

"The Federation was allowed to send medical personnel to treat the Bajorans on the station," Julian lied. "I think you were here to watch us. We started talking, having lunch together."

"What did we talk about?" Garak asked doubtfully.

"It was sort of a... cultural exchange," Julian said. Surely this was small enough, personal enough, that he could tell the truth about it. "You'd give me Cardassian literature, I'd give you Earth literature, and then we'd... well, usually we'd argue about it."

"I gave you books and then argued with you about them?" Garak repeated. "How long did we know each other?"

"Oh, we've been having lunch together at least once a week for years now," Julian said. He smiled, cracking open his dry lower lip. "You're one of my best friends. And it's not one-sided, if you think you must just be using me to get information. I know your name is Elim - although you might not believe the lengths I had to go to learn that - and I know about the Obsidian Order, and the pleasure device in your brain. I know about your father."

"My father was just a gardener--"

"No. Your _real_ father," Julian said. Garak was silent for a long moment.

"You're saying that you know all that about me, and that I give you books so that we'll have something to argue about?" he asked, his voice strange.

"That's right," Julian said, feeling a bit smug despite the situation.

"So... we've been courting? For _years?_ " Garak asked.

"Courting?" Julian repeated blankly.

"Surely you know that what you've described isn't simply friendship," Garak said. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"No, I... that's really how it is," Julian said. Garak narrowed his eyes.

"Then the station isn't in Cardassian hands in your time. I would never act like that in front of other Cardassians. How does Cardassia lose the station? Why am I still there?" Garak snapped, sounding more genuinely angry than Julian had ever heard him. "Tell me! Or tell me who coached you to say such things. Was it Dukat?"

"Nobody coached me," Julian said, and Garak pressed the button again. This time Julian did scream.

"Was it Tain?" Garak demanded when the pain ceased. "Is this some sort of test?"

"It's the truth," Julian moaned. "I can't stand Enigma Tales, but you've made me read a dozen anyway--" He was cut off by another jolt of pain. It must be stimulating the nerves directly to hurt this much, a detached part of him thought as he screamed again. Either that or it was doing serious damage to him.

"Am I a prisoner?" Garak demanded. "Do you do all of this, read these stories, talk to me, because you pity me in my confinement?"

"Yes," Julian gasped. "Yes, the Federation has taken over Terok Nor, and you're being kept prisoner there."

"So the Federation supports the Bajorans?" Garak asked. "How? When? Is it already happening?"

"Can't tell you," Julian said raggedly, and braced himself for pain. Instead of pressing the button, Garak got out of his chair and knelt beside Julian, pulling his head up by the hair so they were face to face. He looked wild, like he had when he was in withdrawal, and Julian honestly feared for his life.

"He must see something in you, this future version of me," Garak muttered, looking intently in his eyes. " _Possible_ future version of me. He's taught you, hasn't he? I've interrogated Starfleet officers before. You aren't responding like one."

"I know you well enough not to fall for the 'nice guy' act," Julian said through gritted teeth. "I know you used to be like this. I forgave you for it."

Garak let go of him and nearly leapt to his feet.

"I will never need some non-Cardassian's forgiveness," he said, and strode out of the room. He turned off the light as he went, leaving Julian on the floor in the dark.


	4. Scheherazade

When Garak returned the next day - or at least, Julian assumed it was the next day - his demeanor was entirely different. He was cold, aloof, and ignored anything Julian said that wasn't a direct answer to one of his questions. Julian lied and lied and lied.

"How does the Federation help the Bajorans?" Garak demanded.

"Supplies," Julian invented. "Food, weapons, everything they need."

"When does this assistance start?"

"Federation year 2380 or so, I think," Julian said.

"Why am I still on Terok Nor after it's taken?"

"All the Cardassian prisoners are kept there. You do the ore processing."

"Then why did you 'make friends' with me?"

"Because you were the most interesting."

Garak demanded more specifics about the Federation's assistance of Bajor. Julian came up with details about medical assistance, smuggled in doctors and medicines, and stayed vague about the weapons; he didn't know too much, it wasn't his area. He even endured a few shocks for it.

"But if you're not lying about me, then I trained you," Garak muttered at the end of the day. "And if you are, then someone else did. So you're probably lying about everything."

"Maybe," Julian said a bit daringly. "Guess you'll just have to wait and find out."

The next day, it was the same questions and a different story. Terok Nor was still under Cardassian rule in his time, he told Garak; he was a prisoner of war, forced to work alongside the Bajorans, but Garak had struck up a friendship with him, probably initially as a connection to the structures of power, such as they were, on the Bajoran side of the station. Yes, Cardassia and the Federation were still at war; it had looked like they were going to make peace, but they couldn't agree on what to do with the settlements on the borders, so the fighting continued. The tide was turning against the Cardassians, though, because the Klingons had entered the war on the Federation side, and in Julian's time it looked like victory was around the corner.

Each day, Garak noted his answers and left, then arrived to ask the same questions again the next day. Julian spent the time in between sleeping fitfully and coming up with his story for next time. He'd never expected to find himself in the role of Scheherazade, but he'd read the 1,001 Nights enough to have some idea how to play the part.

Cardassia had conquered the Federation; Cardassia had been conquered by the Federation; the Bajoran Prophets had turned out to be extradimensional aliens and had shown up to put Bajor in control of most of the quadrant. Julian had no doubts that Garak was learning something from all his lies, but at least saying _something_ kept him from activating the pain collar. He did get a few jolts, because he was always careful to refuse to give away intelligence that would directly harm the Federation in whatever "future" he described, but for the most part he just talked.

He slipped truths about their friendship in every day. Julian's thoughts on this or that Cardassian story, Garak's opinion of James Bond, the way Garak had flustered him at their first meeting, the length of time it took for him to learn Garak's first name. He couldn't quite help but reminisce, wanting to find something of his friend in this torturer, even though he knew he was probably giving Garak all the information he needed to tell the difference between when Julian told the truth and when he lied.

"If you would stop lying to me," Garak said mildly at the end of one session, "I would return you to that bedroom. The temperature's been kept cold for you, just in case. There would be food and a comfortable amount to drink."

"What are you talking about?" Julian asked. "Everything I've said is true."

"Even the lies?"

"Especially the lies." Julian laughed, although it hurt his parched and hoarse throat, and Garak gave him a very odd look.

After a few more sessions, the interrogation seemed increasingly perfunctory.

"And in this version of the future, where Cardassia and the Federation are the best of friends, what would the Federation have been willing to give up in the negotiations?" Garak asked after only half an hour of questions.

"Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you," Julian said, and Garak activated the shock collar. Julian accidentally bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"I looked up that author you said I would hate," Garak said when Julian had stopped twitching and sat back up. "Shakespeare? I think you did him an injustice in your description, my dear doctor."

"Wait - you actually liked something by Shakespeare?" Julian asked, his voice a bit raspy. He still wasn't being given enough water, and not nearly enough food. "Which play?"

"I wouldn't necessarily go that far, but I didn't hate _The Tempest,_ " Garak said.

"Really? I would've thought you'd find Prospero too much of an amateur when it came to manipulation," Julian said.

"I took him as more of a tool for commentary than a character," Garak said. "The way that he made his daughter think that he disapproved of her suitor, in particular, seemed to be more about lamenting the fact that children are not always so obedient as they should be than it was a realistic action."

"I've always found him a bit inscrutable," Julian said. "I can't imagine throwing away all that power, breaking his staff and burying his book. Although at the time it would have been offensive to the dominant religion in his area if he'd kept his magic powers and still had a happy ending."

"That act also seemed less the behavior of a person and more a bit of commentary on the part of the author," Garak said. "Many people who find themselves in power, my dear doctor, find that the demands of maintaining it are too much for them - just think how difficult it must have been for Prospero to manage all those spirits of the air, plus Caliban. But no one would ever truly give it up. It was wish fulfillment, a way to step down from a position of authority without having one's former subordinates take advantage of it, since he leaves immediately after and gains a different kind of power in a more mundane realm."

"I'm not sure that's what Shakespeare intended, but I'm glad you enjoyed it at least a bit," Julian said.

"And I am glad that the Federation is so unwaveringly generous with its cultural databases," Garak said. "I suppose they think that if we all read their stories enough, we'll see the error of our ways and embrace their own."

"You're always so cynical," Julian said fondly, scratching under his beard, which had fully grown in at this point. "The Federation just thinks that sort of information should be freely available."

"And you continue to be charmingly naive," Garak said.

Two days (or at least sessions) after Garak stopped asking tactical questions entirely, he came in furious.

"This is all some sort of ploy, isn't it?" he demanded. "You're not really from the future - you're here to get my guard down, to manipulate me. I almost considered letting you _go_. How did you get your information about me?"

"I told you how," Julian said cautiously. "We're friends--" He was cut off by the shock collar on a higher setting than it had been in ages.

"Tell the truth!" Garak demanded.

"I am telling you the truth!" The second shock was worse than the first, and Julian screamed.

"How did you know so much about me?" Garak asked again.

"I'm from the future--" This time, the pain of the shock collar was accompanied by the more mundane pain of Garak's boot impacting his ribs, hard.

"Lies!" Garak spat, kicking him. "Lies, lies, lies..."

"Garak, please!" Julian wept, looking up at him beseechingly. "Give me to another interrogator if you have to - don't do this to me! I can't bear it from you!"

Garak stopped and sat heavily on the floor beside him.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. There was despair written on his face. "I'm sorry, my dear. I'm so sorry."

Julian put his head in Garak's lap and wept for a long time.

The next day, Garak brought food, water, clothes, and a determined expression.

"I've decided I believe you," he said. "And I have no wish to send Cardassia into some alternate branch of time. Eat."

Julian ate and drank warily. Garak believed him? What about?

"I just have one question today," Garak said when he'd finished. "What was the exact Stardate of your disappearance? The truth, doctor."

"50709.6, why?" Julian asked, truthfully for once.

"Thank you," Garak said. Then he produced a disruptor and shot Julian squarely in the chest.


	5. Time and Again

Julian felt fuzzy. His mouth - no, his entire throat - was dry as paper, and his head was spinning. It felt like by far the worst hangover of his life.

"He is coming around," said an unfamiliar voice. Julian cracked open an eye to see, then winced away from the too-bright light. Wincing made his head throb.

"Easy, easy," another voice said. "Take your time. You are safe. Here - water." Cool water was held to his lips, and Julian drank it down gratefully.

"Where?" Julian croaked when he'd finished drinking.

"You are on Vulcan," the second voice said. "Your escape pod was found by a Federation science ship, crewed primarily by Vulcans, and you were brought back here to await the date of your revival in safety, away from anyone who might recognize you and react illogically. It is Stardate 50709.7."

"Escape pod?" Julian asked. He blinked his eyes open and found himself surrounded by Starfleet-uniformed Vulcans, mostly in science/medical blue, although one was in command red.

"You were in an apparently Cardassian-made escape pod," the second voice - the red-uniformed Vulcan with Lt. Commander's pips - confirmed. "When it reached Federation space, it began to emit a Federation-frequency distress call. When we opened it, we found you in an escape pod, along with a recording in Standard saying that you were not to be revived until Stardate 50709.7 to prevent the risk of breaking the Temporal Prime Directive."

Julian's most recent memories came back to him abruptly, and he winced.

"On stun," he said. "He shot me with a disruptor on stun. I guess that is the most straightforward way to get someone forward in time; just put them in stasis."

"So you are from this time?" the first voice - one of the blue-uniformed Vulcans, a Lieutenant - asked.

"Yes. If you contact Deep Space Nine, they'll tell you there was just a chroniton storm, and they lost their CMO," Julian said. "I'm Dr. Julian Bashir."

"Ah," the Lt. Commander said, nodding. "That explains the Cardassian escape pod. I am certain that your commanding officer will want to debrief you. We will return you to Deep Space Nine. In the meantime, rest. In addition to the effects of long-term stasis and a disruptor stun, you were suffering from malnutrition and dehydration."

"I know," Julian said, grimacing. "I was sent back to the station while it was still Terok Nor." The Vulcans nodded, needing no more explanation than this; Cardassian brutality was well-known.

It took a few days to get back to the station, during which Julian watched his bruises turn interesting colors, slowly began to build his strength back up, and quietly fretted. Apparently DS9's long-distance communications were still down from the storm, which meant that he couldn't know for sure what sort of effect his little temporal adventure had had. The broad strokes of history didn't seem to have changed, nor had his service record, but... was Garak even still on the station? Were they still friends? He couldn't know.

If he still was, were they still friends on Julian's end? The disruptor shot he could forgive, but Garak had quite literally tortured him. He could have broken his ribs. The Cardassian had enjoyed it, too, at least some of it. What was Julian supposed to do with that? It was one thing to know that his friend had a dark past, that he'd hurt people, but quite another to be one of the ones he'd hurt. Did that make Julian a hypocrite? He still hadn't come to any decision when they reached the station.

Jadzia and Miles met him at the door, and he hugged each of them tightly in turn. "Wasn't sure I'd ever see either of you again," he said, trying to keep his tone light and smiling, but both of them looked solemn, apparently seeing something in his eyes that he hadn't meant to let through.

"It's good to have you back," Jadzia said, and Miles nodded.

"You'll have to tell us what happened, once you've been debriefed and all," the chief added. Julian flinched slightly. He didn't want to end up with his friend disliking Garak any more than he already did... which he realized said a lot about what he'd already decided subconsciously about the spy-turned-tailor.

The captain didn't ask many questions during his debriefing, just let him talk. It made an odd change to be telling the truth, Julian reflected wryly.

"And you're telling me that Garak - 'plain, simple tailor' Garak - did all that?" Sisko asked when he was done, a hint of steel under his mild voice.

"Including saving my life," Julian pointed out. "He... he is still here, then? We are still friends?"

"You still have lunch with him regularly," Sisko confirmed. "But doctor, just tell me you want him off this station and I'll—"

"No, sir," Julian said quickly. "It's not... it's not like I didn't know what he used to be. What he used to do." And it had almost been fun to be the mysterious one for once, even if the rest of it had been decidedly un-fun. "I want to talk to him about it."

"That's your choice," the captain said reluctantly. "But tell me if you change your mind, understand? I'll keep Temporal Investigations off your back - it sounds like you did the best job anyone could have under those circumstances."

"I checked the recent history files on my trip back here," Julian said helpfully. "Nothing seemed to have changed."

"Good, good," Sisko said. "Now, aside from writing your report, I don't want you doing any work for at least a week. You look like death warmed over." He gave Julian a look that would clearly brook no argument.

"Yes, sir," Julian said.

"Dismissed."

Miles and Jadzia tried to corner him when he left, but Julian waved them off.

"I'll tell you all about it later," he said. "I've got to find Garak."

"What? What do you want with that Cardie?" Miles asked. "I know he's your friend and all, but so are we!"

"He saved my life," Julian said, going for the least complicated answer. "He's the one who got me back from the past."

"Well, you'll have to give us all the details - _later_ ," Jadzia said, pulling Miles away.

It was mid-afternoon station time, so Julian went to Garak's shop. He was surprised to find it closed. If he listened closely, though, there was some sound coming from inside, so he knocked on the door. After a long moment, Garak answered it and let him in wordlessly. He'd clearly been packing up; there were boxes of clothes instead of displays.

"You remember, then?" Julian asked, not sure what else to make of all this. "Have you always remembered?"

"Yes," Garak said, and gave him a slight, strangely hesitant smile. "You needn't worry about your Temporal Prime Directive - it's all a closed loop. It always happened this way. That line about the lies especially being true - I was quoting you, as I assume you were quoting me.”

"So - wait," Julian said, his thoughts racing. "You were only friendly to me because I'd told you that you would be?"

"You fascinated me, in that time and in this one," Garak said, sounding wistful. "I have enjoyed our talks together, never doubt it."

"But now you're leaving. Were you ever really exiled?" Julian asked. He felt... he didn't know what he felt. He ought to be angry with Garak, or happy for him, or... something other than feeling like his stomach was full of lead at the thought of Garak leaving.

"Of course," he said. He smiled sadly. "I covered my tracks well enough, but when the Occupation was ending, there was a push to look into what we could have done differently, and the fact that I'd let you go was discovered. So when the others left, they just... left me here."

"You were exiled because of _me?_ " Julian asked. "Or is this another of your—"

"I think the time for lies is over between us, don't you, Dr. _Brighton_?" Garak asked, repeating the false name Bashir had given him. "Just like our friendship."

"But... but even if you're leaving the station..."

" _If_ I'm leaving?" Garak asked, eye ridges raised. "I assumed you'd come to tell me I was no longer welcome here."

"What? No, I... the captain offered, but..." Julian swallowed. "You saved me. And you were just doing your job."

"Just following orders? I believe the Federation doesn't accept that excuse," Garak said.

"Maybe not, but... I forgave you, remember? When you were going through withdrawal? I meant it," Julian said. "I didn't mean 'I forgive you unless I get stuck back in time and you do some of the horrible things that I know you did to _me_ ,' I meant I forgive you. And you saved my life."

"Pure selfishness," Garak said. "I saved you because I assumed, from what I was beginning to feel and from what you told me of our talks, that I was in love with you. I didn't want to be the one who deprived my future self of that. You owe me nothing."

"You... you assumed you loved me?" Julian repeated, shocked.

"I also assumed that I had more to offer you than my rusty skills and a modestly successful tailor shop," Garak said, not meeting his eyes. "That we were on an equal footing, or that I had the advantage. My dear, I treasured our time together, but I expect nothing more."

"Well, that... you..." Julian stammered. "I don't... why did you assume that you _loved_ me? We're friends."

"Because the picture you painted of our interactions suggested that I was very much taken with you, but avoiding actually courting you because I knew that eventually you were going to be sent back in time and tortured by me," Garak said. "I've been dreading the days more and more as they led up to this Stardate, you know. And when I first saw you in your new uniform, it was all I could do not to weep."

"You said that was because it was a crime against style," Julian said faintly.

"Well, it is, but that wasn't the root cause of my emotions that day." Garak sighed. "My dear doctor, what does it matter what I said and why? I won't hold you to your promise of forgiveness; you didn't know what you were forgiving."

"I knew, Garak," Julian said quietly. "I knew you were a spy and an assassin and a torturer."

"But you didn't know that I tortured _you,_ " Garak pointed out. "Even if you wish to forgive, how can you look at me without remembering what I did?"

"Well, I'll certainly be seeing a counselor for a while," Julian said, smiling weakly. "I have a lot to... to process. And all of this... it's too much to figure out right now. All I know is, I don't want you to leave the station. Please."

"If... if you're the one asking, how could I refuse?" Garak said, his voice wavering unusually.


	6. Lies and Lunch

Nobody understood why Julian didn't want Garak to leave once they'd heard the whole story, not even his counselor. The fact that Garak didn't have anywhere else to go was brought up multiple times, generally so that whoever was talking to him at the moment, from the counselor to Miles, could say that that shouldn't be the most important factor in his decision.

Julian wasn't quite sure he understood it himself. He still flinched when he thought about seeing Garak, truth be told. But he was still his friend, still the man Julian had nursed through withdrawal, still clever and funny and mysterious and... Garak. And on top of that, he may have tortured him for Cardassia, but when he'd let him go - or even before that, when he'd let Julian rest his head on his lap and cry - that hadn't been for Cardassia, that had been for him. For them. How could Julian turn his back on all of that?

And so Garak didn't leave - but he hardly seemed to stay, either. He did a masterful job of never being where Julian was. He must be taking his meals when Julian had work, or else avoiding the Replimat entirely, because Julian didn't see a single grey scale for weeks. He was only sure Garak hadn't left the station entirely because his shop was still open. It was... well, infuriating, but also kind of him. Julian had a lot of thoughts and feelings to sort through, both the obvious torture-related ones and the ones about how, unless Julian had imagined it, Garak had admitted to having feelings for him. More-than-friendly feelings. Love.

Could he love Garak? Could he have loved Garak, before the Cardassian had kicked him hard enough to badly bruise his ribs (just to pick out one incident of many)? The more he thought about the second question, the more sure Julian was that the answer was yes, but the first question was still unknown. How could you love someone who had hurt you like that?

The one thing he was certain of was that he wouldn't figure any of it out if they kept avoiding each other. So he went into Garak's shop at 1130, the first day after he managed not to have any nightmares about his misadventure in time, and stood by the entrance so that Garak couldn't sneak out without hearing his invitation to lunch. He was with a customer, a Bajoran woman who was being fitted for something, but he locked eyes with Julian the moment the doctor stepped inside.

"Garak, have lunch with me," Julian said as soon as she'd placed her order and left. "Please."

"Why?" Garak asked, his mild tone throwing Julian for a loop.

"Because... I enjoy having lunch with you," Julian said.

"Ah, but I'm no longer obligated by the timelines to have lunch with you," Garak said, gathering together patterns and returning his shop to rights.

"So you're saying you don't want to?" Julian asked.

"I would never be so rude as to _say_ such a thing, doctor," Garak said, which of course was as good as a yes coming from him.

"But you like having lunch with me," Julian said, confused.

"I was rather obligated to give that impression, wasn't I?" Garak asked. "Since I didn't want to condemn us all to some dead-end branch of the timeline."

"So it was all a lie, then?" Julian asked. His lips felt numb. Garak gave him a cool glance that reminded him too much of Garak-the-torturer.

"You've said many times that I'm a liar," Garak said. "Now, I do need to get to work on this new commission, so if you don't mind...?"

"No," Julian said.

"No?" Garak asked, looking at him in surprise.

"No, I don't believe you," Julian said. "You enjoyed lunch with me. You like me. You're lying now."

"Why would I do that?" Garak asked. "If your presence is such a pleasure to me, why would I intentionally deprive myself of it?"

"Because you feel guilty about what happened," Julian said, and Garak... Garak actually flinched, just slightly. "You think I should want you gone, so you're trying to make it so I do. And you're probably trying to make me forget that you practically confessed that you love me. This is too important to lie about, Garak. I want to fix things between us."

"Oh, doctor, I thought I'd broken you of such hopeless naivete," Garak sighed. "Guilt? I was doing what I had to do for Cardassia. No Cardassian feels guilt at such a thing."

"Of course they do," Julian said. "Why else would you have said, back in the past, that Prospero was a wish-fulfillment figure? That power was a burden people could only dream of putting aside? You didn't like the things you had to do to maintain your position."

"You'll forgive me, I hope, if I don't remember every detail of a conversation that was many years ago from my perspective," Garak said.

"I'll forgive you for a lot more than that if you give me a chance," Julian told him.

"Of course you would, foolish boy," Garak sighed. "Or you would try. But it would eat away at you, gnaw at you. Don't you feel its bite now, just being in the same room with me? I caused you a great deal of pain. I manipulated you—"

"Not really," Julian interrupted. "I mean, you tried, but I know you well enough that I could tell when you were lying. Trying to put all the blame for my treatment on Gul Dukat, when I could hear the lie in your voice, the delight in your eyes, like I couldn't possibly have if I didn't know you."

"The delight in my eyes?" Garak hissed. "So you want to forgive me for torturing you, even though you know I enjoyed it?"

"Yes," Julian said calmly. "You have skills, Garak, and you were using them to serve Cardassia, and you were proud of them."

"Is that how you rationalize it?" Garak asked, finally approaching him. "That I simply enjoy being _skillful_ , that I would get the same delight from tailoring clothes if I was doing it for my homeland's sake? Oh, no, doctor. I _enjoyed_ it. I was skilled at assassination and espionage as well, and took pride in my skills, but torture I _enjoyed_. There's nothing quite like looking down at someone broken and helpless at your feet."

"Maybe," Julian allowed, looking Garak directly in the eye. "Maybe you did like torture best of all. But I don't believe you would hurt me again, not even if you had the chance to do it for Cardassia."

"Then you're a fool," Garak snapped. "I would never choose you over Cardassia."

"You already did," Julian said. "When you set that disruptor to stun instead of kill, you chose me. When you put me in an escape pod that some Cardassian might have needed if there was an emergency, you chose me."

"Is that why you're still here, talking to me?" Garak asked. "Because after I tortured you, I put myself to a bit of trouble to avoid killing you? Your standards for friendship are rather low if that's all it takes, my dear doctor." His tone was snide, but his eyes held a tentative hope.

"I'm here talking to you because I enjoy your company," Julian said. "Because I like spending time with you, and I don't want to let the damn Obsidian Order or Cardassia or even the person you were in the past take that away from me. I'm here because you indicated rather strongly that you might have feelings for me, and that made me realize that I might have feelings for you."

"I have nothing to offer you," Garak said softly. "What could I possibly give you, doctor? A share of the blood on my hands?"

"Have lunch with me," Julian said. "Just... just have lunch with me, and let's talk, and let's bicker, and let's be us again. Let's start there and... and see where it leads us."

"If you absolutely insist, I suppose I can't deny you," Garak said. "Lead on, doctor."

Having Garak seated across from him at their usual table in the Replimat was the first thing that had felt really _right_ since that damn chroniton storm.


	7. Defiant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already sort of did with the stardate I gave for Julian's displacement, but this places the story more firmly in the show's timeline.

"Doctor?" Garak asked, stopping short at the door. "What are you doing here? Is Ensign Adebayo alright?"

"She's fine," Julian assured him. "I switched quarters with her. I'm your new bunkmate."

Just about everyone had come privately to Julian, one at a time, to ask if he was _really_ sure he was fine with having Garak around in the close quarters of the Defiant, a deck officer in all but name. He was, of course; he was more than fine with it. They'd resumed their lunches together on the station and gotten almost back to the relationship they had before by the time they had to evacuate.

"May I ask why you felt the need to do such a thing?" Garak asked.

"Because _you_ haven't been sleeping," Julian said. "Or barely. She came to ask me if Cardassians need less sleep than humans, and one of the few things that I do know for a fact about your biology is that you don't. Generally you need more."

"So you thought I needed the close attention of a doctor?" Garak asked with his blandest expression.

"No, I thought you needed someone in the room you trusted at least a bit," Julian said gently. "Someone who won't be shocked by your nightmares and who you know won't stab you in your sleep."

"That was... very thoughtful of you," Garak said. "But I am in fact trained to be able to sleep - lightly - in the presence of others, no matter how little I trust them."

"Oh." Julian was nonplussed. "Then... why haven't you been?" Garak didn't answer, and Julian smacked his forehead. "Oh. Because the bunks are tiny."

"The bunks are _miniscule_ ," Garak agreed with some feeling. "Even with my eyes closed, I can feel my breath bouncing back to hit me in the face. So you see, doctor, despite your generous intentions, you may as well switch back."

"I'll make you a better offer," Julian said. "I'll replicate up some extra blankets and pillows and we can set up a place for you to sleep on the floor. It's still a small room, but not as small as the bunks."

"I suppose I should be grateful that you didn't actually _say_ 'we'll make you a nest,'" Garak sighed.

"Terminology aside, what do you think of the idea?" Julian pressed.

"It should work," Garak admitted grudgingly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Julian said. "You need your rest as much as any of us do. I know this can't be easy for—" Garak held up a hand to interrupt him.

"I don't want to talk about it, please," he said. "At all."

"Oh. That's fine, I under—that's fine," Julian said, the wind taken out of his sails a bit. He knew he couldn't understand what it meant to Garak to be, well, sort of technically at war with Cardassia, despite having its best interests at heart. But he hadn't realized the subject would be forbidden.

Garak nodded and left the room, presumably for the bridge. Julian looked around, considering his surroundings, then went to see if the mattresses could be pulled off of the bunks. They couldn't, but the blankets and pillows could be, and the bunks themselves could be folded into the wall, which made the shared room seem considerably roomier. He went to the medical replicators and requisitioned some extra blankets and pillows, lugged them back to their shared room, and set up a couple of cozy, yes, _nests_ on the floor.

(Not that the nest thing was in any way about Garak's reptiloid nature. Gorillas built nests. Julian used to build and sleep in nests sometimes when he was younger.)

Julian's duties took him out of the room for the rest of the day after that. When he finally returned after dinner, Garak was already there, wearing standard-issue Starfleet sleepwear and looking around with an unreadable expression.

"Doctor, you don't have to sleep on the floor for my sake," he began, but Julian interrupted.

"Nothing wrong with sleeping on the floor," he said cheerfully. "Used to do this for fun when I was a kid. It'll be like a slumber party."

"A slumber... party?" Garak asked.

"An overnight party for children," Julian clarified. "A sleepover. When your friends stay overnight at your house and you stay up too late watching holos and eating junk food, that sort of thing."

"The particular blend of overindulgence and negligence with which humans treat their offspring never ceases to amaze me," Garak said. "Do you prefer one blanket pile over the other?"

"Nope, up to you," Julian said. Garak gave an elegant shrug and selected a blanket pile. "Works for me. I'll just, ah... change." Was it reasonable of Julian to feel awkward about changing in front of Garak? The Cardassian had seen him naked before, but... well, he was sort of torturing him at the time. Really, he ought to feel either the same friendly unconcern that he felt about changing in the same room as Miles, or have some sort of trauma response, not feel this stomach-melting, weak-kneed desire/embarrassment, but he'd mostly given up on thinking about what he _ought_ to feel around Garak. He turned his back and changed, wishing desperately that he knew whether Garak was looking. He curled up in his blanket nest and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow; days on the Defiant were long.

"Did it work?" Julian asked the next morning, which seemed to come far too soon. "Did you actually get a good night's sleep?"

"Every part of me but my spine is eminently satisfied with the arrangement, doctor," Garak said, stretching. "Whenever we manage to retake DS9, I hope the Federation will see fit to reimburse me enough that I can afford a massage program in the holosuite."

Julian wondered whether massage in Cardassian culture rode the same thin line between healthcare and sexuality that it did in human culture, but didn't ask. It seemed like a bit of a personal question, since Garak had just announced his intention to get one from a hologram.

Both of them got dressed for the day at the same time, which definitely intensified the feeling Julian had when he'd changed the night before. He was strongly, shamefully tempted to peek, although he restrained himself. They had breakfast together in unusual but companionable silence; apparently even Garak needed more rest to be his usual eloquent self.

It became a pattern after that, bookending days of desperate battles and overwhelming odds; they both worked through dinner, but found a little time for conversation before bed, changed, slept, changed, and breakfasted together. Julian had a feeling that the "changed" parts of that list ought to be less highlighted in his mind, but even after days they still set his nerves on fire. It was less that he wanted to spy on Garak, he realized, and more that he wanted Garak to be spying on him; he fantasized about turning around, still undressed, and finding his friend's eyes on him, watching avidly. Maybe Garak would be naked too... maybe he'd even be enjoying Julian's nudity enough to touch himself.

There really wasn't much privacy for relief. The sonic showers were communal, which was reasonable since they didn't require nudity to use. Julian was forced to find moments to quickly stroke himself to completion in the tiny infirmary WC, and every time he couldn't help but return to that idea of Garak watching him hungrily.

He never did look, of course, but one night he found himself awoken by a soft voice in his ear. He smiled and snuggled further into the strong arms that held him, determined to enjoy the dream to the utmost, until the voice grew impatient.

"Doctor? Oh, really, can you sleep through anything?" Garak asked, sounding a bit stressed. "I could have garroted you five times over by now."

"I'm trying to sleep," Julian complained.

"I am aware of that," Garak said. "But they must have had to recalibrate the inertial dampeners, because both our piles of blankets slid up against the wall, and as delightfully warm as you are, you are crushing me just a bit."

"Oh." Still half-asleep, Julian scooted forward enough to keep from pressing Garak against the bulkhead. "Better?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it is, but you're still quite... close," Garak said.

"Well, you said I was warm," Julian said. "Do Cardassians not cuddle?"

"We do, but generally only with close family members or romantic partners," Garak said.

"Mmm," Julian hummed. "G'night, Garak."

Of course, in the morning he was a blushing mess, only half-remembering that conversation, and Garak had to go to great lengths to assure him that he wasn't offended.

"Really, my dear doctor, I find it rather incredible that you can relax around me to such a degree," Garak said. "Given who and what I am, and our shared history..."

"Well, it's not as if you'd have a _harder_ time hurting me starting from across the room if you wanted to," Julian pointed out. "And I've forgiven you for that. I've told you."

"Forgiveness is one thing, but sometimes I could almost believe that you've actually forgotten," Garak said. "Although I know such experiences have a way of... rather sticking in the mind."

"I haven't forgotten anything," Julian said softly. "But I know who you are now, and I trust you. I mean, I don't trust you to tell me the _truth_ or anything, but I trust you not to hurt me."

Garak mumbled something about it being too early for that sort of conversation, but from then on their two blanket nests were one, and they fell asleep and woke up curled together, one or the other of them holding them snugly together.

The first night after they retook Deep Space Nine, Julian couldn't sleep. His bed was too soft and too empty.

"This is absurd," he told the ceiling. "You're attracted to him, you have feelings for him, you're over what happened. Talk to him about it, you ninny." He didn't usually have trouble making his feelings known to the object of his affections; quite the opposite, really. So why was this so different? Was he still afraid of Garak on some level? He forced himself to unflinchingly revisit the memory of his torture, and of course it was painful to recall, but the fact that Garak was there seemed to make it better. He could even imagine being naked in front of a clothed Garak under other circumstances, maybe even with his hands bound, and making some new memories that would be considerably more enjoyable.

He wondered if he was finally starting to crack. Was this the first sign of genetic modification gone awry? Persistent attraction to a man who by any reasonable standard should have terrified him? Had some stray combination of nucleotides that nature would have weeded out left him with these feelings? Probably he was overthinking it.

The point became somewhat moot when the captain announced that Deep Space Nine was officially under Federation jurisdiction once again and, in the middle of a cheering crowd, Julian exuberantly grabbed Garak by the shoulders and kissed him. There were some giggles around them, a few disapproving sounds from some of the Bajoran civilians who had returned to the station, but for the most part Julian was able to ignore them, his world having shrunk down to the Cardassian in front of him, who... was not returning the kiss in any way. Julian pulled back.

"Sorry," he said. "I... I guess I got carried away..."

"We need to talk," Garak said, his tone holding a note of strain that Julian suspected was unintentional. "Privately."


	8. Confession

Garak and Julian sat at the small table in Julian's quarters. Julian couldn't help but fidget with embarrassment. What had he been thinking, kissing Garak like that?

"You told me on the Defiant that you know what sort of man I am now, and you don't fear me," Garak said. "Do you think that I've become harmless, my dear doctor? Repented of my old ways, turned over the proverbial new leaf? Do you think I would hesitate to plot and scheme and kill and  _ torture _ today?"

"I... well... yes," Julian admitted, his heart sinking. "Wouldn't you?"

"I should have let you keep your illusions," Garak said, getting up from the table and stalking around the room like something caged and unfriendly. "I should have taken what you offered, everything you offered, everything I've wanted since... but I am a different enough man to give you three confessions, doctor. I hope you appreciate the magnitude of the gift; I am not in the habit of confessing." He held up a finger.

"One: I would still lie, murder, and, yes, torture if I felt that it was necessary." A second finger. "Two: I have feelings for you, romantic feelings." Before Julian could celebrate this revelation, or begin to grapple with the first, Garak held up a third finger. "Three: Even against your wishes, I would kill or torture if I felt that it was necessary to protect you, or even to help you. I am in love with you, Julian; I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything save Cardassia, and I know that you know what lengths I was willing to go for Cardassia's sake. I've wanted you since I met you - yes, the first time, and doesn't  _ that  _ say something about what sort of man I am? - but I care for you too much to accept what you offer without at least trying to disabuse you of this image you seem to have of me as a reformed man. My priorities have changed, certainly, but I am in no way reformed. Don't say anything right away. I want you to take the time to actually think about what I've said first." With that, he turned and left Julian's quarters, leaving the doctor in a state of some shock.

Well, the good news was, Garak loved him. The bad news was, Garak loved him enough to kill for him. No, not just kill; kill could mean all sorts of things. Julian believed in several things enough that he would kill for them. He'd kill to protect Garak, even, from some sort of imminent attack. But Garak had said  _ murder _ , and that had a very specific meaning. If it was self-defense or battle or any of the other situations in which killing might be justified, it definitionally  _ wasn't  _ murder. Julian couldn't think of a situation in which he'd  _ murder _ anyone, let alone torture.

How could Julian love someone who would do something like that? And even if that ship had sailed - he really couldn't deny to himself anymore that he was in love with Garak - how could he act on it? Could he have a relationship, maybe even build a  _ life _ with someone whose ethics matched up so poorly with his own? Could he, in good conscience, encourage the affections of someone who would  _ murder _ for him?

He hadn't been willing to give up his dream of joining Starfleet out of love of Palis. How could he give up his conscience? Well, maybe Garak would agree not to... no, he wouldn't, Julian knew. He wouldn't have made that confession in that way if the subject had been at all negotiable.

He also wouldn't have made that confession if there was any chance he would ever be willing to harm Julian, though. He'd proved that he wouldn't even seriously deceive Julian, although the little lies that made up the majority of their interactions were doubtless still fair play. How hard had that confession been for him? He'd laid himself bare, metaphorically flayed himself to the bone for Julian's inspection.

And maybe... maybe long exposure to Julian would make him less likely to harm others? Julian knew it was a terrible idea to get into a relationship hoping to change the other person, but despite what he'd said, Garak was already changing. The fact that he'd made that confession at all proved that. The fact that he was willing to compare his love for Julian to his love for Cardassia... Julian had some idea of what that meant to a Cardassian, of what that meant to Garak in particular.

Julian decided to sleep on it, and woke up with his mind entirely made up. After his shift at the infirmary, he went to Garak's shop. There was a customer, a human Starfleet officer, looking through a book of patterns, but Julian wasn't going to let that stop him.

"I've thought about what you said," he told Garak. "About that outfit I wanted."

"Oh?" Garak didn't even look up from the trousers he was mending. "I trust you've realized that it wouldn't suit you nearly as well as you thought."

"No, I haven't," Julian said, and Garak looked up at him, expressionless except for his piercing blue eyes. "I still think it's just the thing for me."

"It's nothing like anything I've seen you wear before," Garak said.

"That doesn't mean it wouldn't be a good fit," Julian said. "It's good to leave your comfort zone sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Garak repeated. "Those garments are hardly suitable for occasional, casual wear."

"No, of course not," Julian said. "I wouldn't toy with one of your designs like that. I think we just need to discuss the cut a bit more, to find something that won't chafe."

"There's only so much give to the material," Garak said, his eyes serious. "Some alterations are beyond my ability. Beyond anyone's."

"I think we can make it work," Julian said.

"Well." Garak seemed nonplussed. "Come into my fitting room and I'll see what I can do." They moved aside, away from anyone else's ears. "What are the alterations?" Garak asked seriously.

"I need to know you wouldn't harm anyone for something trivial," Julian said. "You're talking about, oh, torturing someone to find out where I've been abducted to, right? Not going after a waiter for spilling soup on me." Garak nodded silently. "I know I can't just ask you not to. You'd do it anyway if you felt like you had to. But I need you to promise me that if you harm anyone for my sake, you'll tell me. I can deal with the fact that you would. I wouldn't be able to deal with the possibility that you  _ have. _ "

"I can agree to that," Garak said. "If you're willing to trust a liar to keep his promises."

"If you weren't committed to telling me the truth about important things, our conversation last night wouldn't have happened," Julian said. "I believe that. I have faith in you, Garak. Elim." At the sound of his first name, Garak closed his eyes and shuddered. "Maybe it won't work," Julian continued. "Maybe we'll go down in flames together. But I don't think so. I want to try. I love you." Garak looked at him for a long moment.

"When we first met, chronologically speaking, and you asked for someone else to torture you, I thought that if you were indeed from the future, there must be something you wanted from me," Garak said. "You must want to be able to look at me without shuddering so that you could enjoy the benefits of being my lover. But there are no material benefits to being with me. If anything, it would complicate your career, make it more difficult for your fellow officers to trust you and for you to get ahead."

"Maybe," Julian said. "I don't care about that." It was true, he realized. If being with Garak meant being held back, well, so be it.

"You would make a terrible Cardassian," Garak said fondly. "And I suppose I've become a terrible Cardassian, since I doubt you'd allow me to enjoy special benefits because of your position."

"You haven't corrupted me that much any more than I've turned you into a paragon of virtue," Julian said equally fondly.

"So be it, then," Garak said, and leaned in to kiss him.

It was much better than that first kiss on the Promenade, since both of them were enthusiastically participating this time. Julian shuddered, feeling like his nerve endings were ablaze everywhere they touched: Garak's hand on the back of his head, his own hands on Garak's shoulders, and of course their lips, their tongues, the slight scrape of Garak's teeth. He didn't think he'd ever gone from serious conversation to intense arousal so quickly before, and he pressed his body up against Garak's, feeling his solidity and his reptilian coolness all along his front. It was glorious. When Garak pulled back, Julian couldn't hold in a needy whimper.

"Tonight," Garak whispered. "Tonight in your quarters, precious, darling boy. 21:00."

"Twenty-one--Garak, that's hours from now!" Julian protested. "Elim, please. You've got to have a bit of mercy."

"Tonight," Garak repeated stubbornly, although Julian could feel him tremble at the sound of his name. "I promise, it will be worth the wait."


	9. The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains both "talking about your feelings like mature adults" porn and the regular kind.

The abstract part of Julian's mind, which never quite shut up, mused that if each kiss with Garak continued to be better than the last by such a margin, a few dozen more and his heart would explode. Garak had kissed him almost as soon as he'd entered the room, and it was passionate, tender, making his heart soar as much as it excited his body.

"What do I need to know?" Julian gasped when it was finished. "About Cardassians, about you?"

"Internal genitals, very sensitive once they've everted," Garak said, his neck ridges flushing slightly. "The ridges aren't actually as sensitive as aliens seem to think - they're defensive in nature. I'm rather used to being the dominant partner, but I'm sure it will be fine."

"Sure what will be fine?" Julian asked.

"Submitting to you," Garak said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not really much of a dom," Julian said, frowning. "Why did you think I was?"

"But... you're clearly of the higher social rank between the two of us," Garak said, wearing a similar frown of confusion.

"That... as long as nobody's abusing their position, that doesn't actually matter to humans," Julian said.

"Then how do you decide who dominates?" Garak asked, looking taken aback.

"Whoever wants to, or neither," Julian said. "I'm... I'm more on the submissive side. I mean, I don't _need_ it, but if you wanted to hold me down, maybe pull my hair a bit..."

Garak groaned and slammed Julian against the wall, his hand keeping the back of his head from cracking against it, and kissed him wildly. Yes, the kiss situation did seem to be linear, or maybe even quadratic.

"What else do I need to know about you?" Garak panted against his mouth.

"Um, external genitals with foreskin - a sheath of skin around the tip - very sensitive," Julian panted. "Careful with the testicles, they're extremely vulnerable. I like being pushed around, hair pulling, a bit of biting, but not hard enough to break the skin or anything. I'd love to have you penetrate me, my anus, there's a gland in there that makes it feel fantastic, but if you want to do that, you'll need to stretch me out with your fingers first."

"Oh, I want to," Garak growled, and bit the side of Julian's neck, making him whimper and grind against the Cardassian. "So unprotected, so vulnerable... I'm touched that you trust me to have my way with you, my dear."

"I know you'd stop if I wanted you to," Julian gasped, "But don't, don't stop, have your way with me, _please._ "

Soon they were naked in bed together, trading exploratory touches, kisses, bites; Garak's skin was smooth and cool and tasted vaguely mineral, though not salty. Of course; Cardassians didn't sweat unless they were actually overheating, which Garak certainly wouldn't be on DS9. Julian hoped his own sweat wasn't too off-putting, but Garak seemed to be relishing the differences between them as much as he was.

After what felt like an infinite mutual exploration, but couldn't possibly have taken more than a few minutes, Julian was on his hands and knees, moaning as Garak worked a thick, slippery finger into him.

"Oh, you are lovely like this," Garak breathed. "Ah - is this the spot?" He rubbed against Julian's prostate, making him almost shout with pleasure.

"Garak, Elim, more, give me more," Julian begged, and he moaned at the stretch when Garak slid a second finger into him. "Yes, yes yes yes _yes_ ," he chanted.

"I can feel you opening up for me," Garak said, sounding slightly awed. "Your marvelous body, is there anything it can't do?"

"Can't wait," Julian moaned. "Give it to me, fuck me, stretch me, _please_ , Elim!"

"You're sure you're stretched enough?" Garak asked, and Julian moaned wordlessly in response. "Alright, then."

Being penetrated by Garak was an unbelievably erotic experience. He slid in easily at first, but the broad base of his cock was the largest thing Julian had ever had inside him. Every thrust felt like being opened up all over again, stretched almost to the breaking point.

"Oh, you're so tight and hot - I'm not going to last long, darling," Garak gasped, and Julian took that as his cue to touch his own achingly hard cock, stroking himself in time with Garak's powerful thrusts until he quickly reached a blinding, overwhelming orgasm, his whole body shuddering with the force of it. Garak groaned and dug his fingers into Julian's hips, thrust a few more times, and released what felt like a slow torrent into him. They gasped together for a few moments, then disentangled themselves, curling up together.

Cuddling with Garak was surprisingly comfortable, scales notwithstanding. It felt a bit like laying his head on a cool leather couch, although Julian chose not to share that particular observation with his new... what?

"So are we a... a couple now?" Julian asked. Oh, these conversations were always awkward.

"Would you like to be?" Garak asked, his tone giving away nothing.

"I'm game if you are," Julian said. "I just wasn't sure... well, I've heard that same-gender relationships aren't really considered legitimate by most Cardassians."

"Every Cardassian who is capable of doing so is expected to marry a compatible Cardassian and have children," Garak said. "Outside of that official relationship, sexual and even romantic coupling is a relatively minor peccadillo regardless of gender and even species, as long as no illegitimate children are produced."

"I see," Julian said. "Guess I'll have to try and get a refund on that engagement ring, then." Garak laughed.

"I'm an exile, my dear," he said. "The normal rules don't apply to me. I can't imagine what you could hope to gain by marrying me, but if this relationship doesn't - how did you put it? - 'crash and burn,' I would be amenable to adopting a more Federation outlook on sexuality."

"Well." Julian wasn't sure how to respond to that past the swell of emotion filling him. Assuming Garak was being truthful (and it seemed likely that at the moment he was), he'd consider tying himself to Julian in ways that would make it difficult or even impossible for him to _ever_ return to Cardassia. He hugged Garak a little tighter. "That's a relief. I already lost the receipt."

"You Federation types and your disregard for money," Garak tsked. Changing the subject, he asked, "Does 'being a couple' denote exclusivity to you?"

"Well, by default, yes," Julian said. "Unless that isn't what you'd prefer?"

"Oh, I'm not sure I can bear to turn away the crowds of admirers that are always darkening my door," Garak said. "After all, I am a young, handsome, flirtatious human doctor... or am I thinking of someone else?" Julian chuckled.

"I'm not really interested in sleeping with anyone but you," he admitted. "If that changes, you'll be the first to know."

"Neither am I, my dear," Garak said softly. "Even if I did have crowds of admirers, why would I waste a moment with them that could be spent with you?"

"You're sweet," Julian said, and kissed him. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Speaking of telling people - are you planning to let people know that we're together?" Garak asked.

"Well, I figured I'd tell my friends," Julian said. "I think quite a few people on the station thought we already _were_ together, you know."

"Those would be the ones who have any idea what proper flirtation looks like," Garak said a touch haughtily.

" _Proper_ flirtation? What happened to taking a more Federation view of relationships?" Julian asked teasingly. "Anyway, I wasn't planning to keep it a secret, no."

"Are you certain that's wise?" Garak asked quietly. "It might not be good for your career."

"If you're cleared to be on the bridge of the _Defiant_ , I can't see how you could not be cleared to be in my quarters," Julian said, smiling at him. "I'm sorry to break it to you, but you're not the scary Cardassian spy any longer. You're one of us."

"Oh? I thought it was my mystique that attracted you," Garak teased.

"You're what attracts me," Julian said. "Just... you. Who you were and who you are, all of it together."

"How lucky for me," Garak said, and held him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's left notes and kudos! I had no idea this decades-old show still had such an active and supportive fanbase. <3 to all of you.


End file.
